


that thing that i've been looking for

by lilcrickee



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Light Dom/sub, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-24 00:58:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10730886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilcrickee/pseuds/lilcrickee
Summary: The kiss is fierce, biting, and all of Claude’s suspicions are confirmed. Whatever TK’s going through needs to be dealt with, and if it means Claude’s going to have to fuck his rookie into the mattress - Claude will deal with the consequences of that later.





	that thing that i've been looking for

**Author's Note:**

> i can't remember the exact circumstances as to how this came to be, but um, here we are. captain/rookie porn. 
> 
> title from NEIKED's song "sexual (feat. dyo)". 
> 
> unbeta'd. if you see a glaring mistake, let me know!

The difference between then and now is astounding.

Then, Travis was a restless ball of bright energy, always talkative and always laughing. He was never afraid of ribbing the older guys, was always down for a ping pong match against the other rookies, and took his job seriously. Claude remembers hardly ever seeing Travis without his phone, shooting private smiles at whatever texts came through, and always taking time to chat with someone in the evenings. The guys joked about a girlfriend, but Claude had had a suspicion.

Now, Travis is still a restless ball of energy, but it’s angry. He plays like there’s a chip on his shoulder, like he has something to prove. Maybe someone else wouldn’t know who, but Claude knows it’s someone outside the organization. Probably the same someone that Travis used to smile at when he talked on the phone. Said phone now seems to live in his pocket, doesn’t see the light of day much, and as the weeks go by, Travis’ mood gets more and more sour.

“Can you do something about it?” Wayne asks him after practice one day. Travis had latched onto him early, looked at him like a mentor, but Claude’s the captain and more inclined to deal with TK the way that Wayne wants him to. 

Claude glances at Travis, sitting across the room. He’s ignoring Ivan in favour of yanking off his skates, tearing at the tape still wrapped around his socks. The tension is palpable, even from where Claude’s sitting.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Claude replies, and Wayne sags in relief.

 

“Hey,” Claude says, snagging Travis on his way out the door. Travis levels him with a truly impressive scowl.

“Hey,” he says.

For a second, Claude thinks about just inviting Travis over for a movie or something, but he can also feel the way Travis seems to be vibrating under his hand. The longer he waits, the more agitated Travis seems to get, so Claude says, “Come over to my place?”

Travis raises an eyebrow. “What for?” he asks. To anyone walking by it might sound curious. To Claude, it sounds challenging.

They’re standing in the hallway to the parking garage. Anyone could walk by and see them, but Claude pushes Travis back against the wall, crowding in close for a moment. A thrill runs down his spine at the way Travis’ eyes darken.

“Something’s bothering you,” Claude says, leaning in close to Travis’ ear. “You can either tell me about it now, or later.”

Travis huffs and then pushes Claude away, straightening his baseball cap where it was knocked askew. He looks at Claude evenly for a moment before saying, “I’ll be over in an hour,” and slipping out the door. Claude counts to thirty before following.

 

When Travis comes over he’s tense all over and he’s got a sharp grin that Claude normally sees aimed at opposing players on the ice. He steps into Claude’s space immediately, but Claude stands his ground, curling his hands into fists. When Travis goes to take another step forward, Claude’s ready.

“Get a grip,” he says, pushing at Travis’ shoulder until Travis takes a step back and knocks into the wall. There’s something sharp and predatory in the way that Travis looks at him. Heat curls in Claude’s belly.

“What are you going to do about it?” Travis asks. He juts his chin out defiantly, so Claude steps into his space, traps him up against the wall.

Travis is short, but he’s all muscle. Claude’s seen the way they ripple when Travis gets dressed in the locker room. Maybe he shoudn’t have been looking, but Travis was always looking back.

“Are we really doing this?” Travis asks. He should be nervous, Claude thinks, but instead he just looks eager. Certain.

“I think you need it,” Claude replies, and that’s all it takes for Travis to push up onto his toes and press his lips to Claude’s. 

The kiss is fierce, biting, and all of Claude’s suspicions are confirmed. Whatever TK’s going through needs to be dealt with, and if it means Claude’s going to have to fuck his rookie into the mattress - Claude will deal with the consequences of that later.

“Hey,” Claude says, pushing Travis back with a hand just below the collarbones. Travis practically snarls.

“Come on,” he demands, and Claude shakes his head.

“That’s not how this goes,” he says. He presses harder, and Travis bares his teeth. “Behave or - “

“Or what?” Travis asks. His hand comes up to grip Claude’s wrist, sharp pressure that makes Claude’s bones creak and his body flush. “Or you won’t fuck me?”

“TK - “ Claude says warningly, but Travis just tips his head back and laugh. Claude wants to bite at his throat.

“That’s what Lawson said too,” he says. “Or that was the gist of it. That he wouldn’t fuck me.”

Claude tries not to get involved with the love affairs of his teammates. He knows a lot of the goings-on, but when it comes right down to the nitty-gritty of it, he tries to stay clear. What his boys do in their on time isn’t any of his business.

Except when it fucks with the room.

“His loss, I guess,” Claude says. He leans in, presses his free hand to Travis’ hip to pin him more effectively to the wall. Travis’ breath rushes out of him in a long exhale. “Couldn’t keep up with you?”

“And you think you can?” Travis asks, and Claude is so sick of his shit. He leans in and kisses Travis again, thinks of other ways he could keep TK’s mouth occupied.

Travis gives as good as he gets, fingers biting into Claude’s biceps, body pushing forward. Claude takes one step forward until he’s pressing Travis against the wall with his own body weight, trapping Travis. He bites at Travis’ lower lip, pulls on it gently, before trailing his lips across Travis’ jaw to his ear.

“Here’s how this is going to go,” Claude whispers, grinding his hips against Travis’. He can feel where Travis is hard and pressed up against his thigh, shifting his hips into the steady movements of Claude’s. “We’re going to go down the hall to the bedroom, and then you’re going to take off your clothes and get on the bed. Hands and knees. Don’t touch yourself.”

Travis laughs, breathless and mean. “Make me,” he orders, and Claude bites hard just underneath Travis’ ear, making him yelp.

“Get going,” Claude says, stepping back and dragging Travis away from the wall so that he can push him down the hall. Travis goes on unsteady feet, but he keeps glancing back. Claude isn’t sure if it’s to make sure that he’s following, or if he’s challenging Claude to touch him again.

The curtains in the bedroom are still open from earlier, and the light from the city outside bathes Travis in an ethereal light. Claude watches as Travis strips off his clothes, dumping them unceremoniously on the ground. He gives pause when he turns to the bed, and for one moment Claude thinks he’s not going to do it, that he’ll back down and tell Claude he’s just kidding. Claude can see the moment when Travis inhales slowly, tension bleeding out of his body, before he climbs up, situating himself in the middle of the bed on his hands and knees, head hanging between his arms.

“Well?” he asks, but his voice sounds a little more uncertain than it had back in the hallway. “I did what you told me to do.”

Claude can’t help but smile. He comes over to the bed and runs a hand down Travis’ spine, noting the way it makes Travis shiver. “Good boy,” Claude murmurs, and he feels more than hears the way Travis exhales at the praise. Maybe this will be easier than Claude thought.

He reaches out to wrap around Travis’ dick, hard and leaking where it’s hanging between Travis’ legs, but Travis says, “Don’t,” through gritted teeth. Claude backs off immediately. 

“What do you want?” he asks instead, putting his hand back on Travis’ back.

Travis has gone back to being tense, tightly coiled. He’s panting a little, clearly warring with himself on what to tell Claude. Finally, he settles on, “Fuck me.”

Claude had hoped, but there had been no guarantee that Travis would want Claude’s dick in him. Now, Claude opens the drawer in the bedside table, pulls out a bottle of lube and a condom, and tries to get his excitement in check. Tonight is about Travis.

“Relax, sweetheart,” Claude says. He works at the buttons on his shirt and lets it fall to the ground before starting on his jeans.

“Don’t call me that,” Travis spits out, but Claude can see the way he’s trembling, giving away the lie.

“No one ever talk nice to you in bed before?” Claude asks. He climbs up behind Travis, smooths a hand down his back again and rests it possessively on Travis’ hip. “No one ever tell you how pretty you look?”

Travis’ breath seems to whistle between his teeth. Claude squeezes his hip and reaches for the lube. The snap of the cap makes Travis’ back tense and his breathing come faster, the anticipation ramping him up.

“I can’t believe no one’s ever told you how good you look,” Claude says, running the tip of one slicked finger around the rim of Travis’ hole. He slips it in when Travis pushes back into it, pushing until the second knuckle. “How good you look getting fucked, that is.”

He works Travis open on two, and then three fingers, murmuring words of encouragement as he goes. Travis doesn’t say much of anything, like he’s lost his voice, but Claude can hear the hitching whimpers that he holds back. It makes him want to break Travis down.

“You good, sweetheart?” he asks, pulling his fingers out and reaching for the condom. Travis doesn’t say anything, but he’s panting. His dick is flushed, red and dripping onto the sheets below, clearly neglected. Claude wants to touch, but he remembers Travis’ vehemence earlier.

“TK,” he says, prompting, and Travis says, “Hurry up.”

There’s a chip on Travis’ shoulder, and Claude hates that, hates the way that Travis throws up a defense to hide whatever’s hurting underneath. Whatever it is, Claude wants to get rid of it, wants to make Travis forget about the boy who broke his heart.

He slides on the condom and slicks himself with more lube before shuffling in close enough that his dick catches on Travis’ rim. Travis gasps, hips pushing into it, but Claude stills him with a hand on his hip. He lines himself up properly, squeezes Travis’ hip once, and then pushes in.

Travis arches into the initial push, a soft keen escaping his throat, and Claude pets the curve of his spine until he finally bottoms out. Even with the prep, Travis is hot and tight and Claude has to take a moment just to make sure he can make this last. When he’s ready, he pulls out until just the head of his dick is holding Travis open and then slides back in. Then he stills.

Travis whines, head dropping. He tries pushing back into Claude, but Claude keeps him pinned in place. “Travis,” he says, and Travis grunts, dropping down to his forearms, like he can’t hold himself up anymore. He looks beautiful like this, spread out for Claude, so Claude leans over, pressing a kiss to Travis’ spine.

Something in Travis seems to break at that. He whines again, the noise muffled by the pillows, but the, “Please,” he manages to choke out does not go unheard. Claude pulls out and pushes back in again, setting a steady rhythm, and says, “Good boy.”

They fuck like that for a few minutes, Claude keeping the pace even despite the way Travis tries to shift into it. Finally, Travis lifts his head, his gasps growing louder as Claude fucks into him. “Please, please, please,” he begs. His voice sounds wet, like he’s on the verge of tears, and Claude smiles.

“Of course, sweetheart,” he says. He pulls on Travis’ shoulders until Travis sits up on Claude’s lap, legs spread wide by Claude’s thighs. There’s a pretty flush spreading down Travis’ chest, barely visible over the tan he always seems to have. Claude reaches up and pinches one of Travis’ nipples, making Travis keen.

“There you go,” Claude murmurs. He can shove in deeper, at this angle, and it’s easy to get Travis to lift up and sink back down on his dick, gravity working in their favour. Travis’ head lolls back onto Claude’s shoulder, and Claude can’t give up the opportunity to suck a bruise into Travis’ throat.

“Oh,” Travis says, squeezing his eyes shut. There’s still a tenseness to his shoulders, in the stiff way that he holds himself as he fucks himself on Claude’s dick, and Claude wants so badly to ease it. 

“Come on,” Claude urges. He pushes his hips up and Travis makes a wounded, broken sound, head rolling a little. “Let go, sweetheart.”

In the end, he’s not entirely sure what does it. Travis goes lax in his grip, one hand coming up to clutch at the forearm Claude’s got braced against his chest, the other reaching up to grab at the back of Claude’s neck.

“Oh,” Travis sobs, grinding his hips. “Claude - please.”

“Whatever you need,” Claude grunts. He’s close, and he thinks Travis is too. “Can I touch you?”

Travis shakes his head, moaning when Claude shifts his hips, changing the angle. “No - no. Just. Like this, please.”

Claude groans and picks up the pace, Travis meeting him thrust for thrust. “You going to come for me just like this, baby?” he asks, pinching one of Travis’ nipples again. “Just on my cock?”

Travis sobs again, his grip tightening on Claude’s forearm. It only takes another couple thrusts before Travis is spilling against his belly, dick flushed and untouched. Claude groans, fucking Travis through it, his own orgasm building. It only takes a few more thrusts for him to tip over the edge, shuddering against Travis’ back while Travis tries to catch his breath.

When Claude finally pulls out and ties off the condom, he lets Travis face-plant onto the bed. There’s going to be a bit of a wet spot, but Claude thinks it’ll be manageable. He leaves to get a washcloth from the bathroom and cleans Travis off, rolling him over once he’s wiped the lube off the inside of Travis’ thighs.

Travis’ eyes are squeezed shut, tears leaking from the corners. When Claude touches his jaw, his eyes open, wide and uncertain. “Hey, sweetheart,” Claude says gently, wiping up the dried come on Travis’ belly and then thumbing at the tears. “You doing okay?”

Travis blinks at him for a moment before inhaling slowly. “Yeah,” he says on the exhale, going limp. He lets Claude finish cleaning up, then reaches for him when he comes back to the bed after disposing of the cloth.

Claude tugs the blankets out from under Travis and then climbs into bed, cuddling TK in close once they’re settled. Travis breathes wetly against his chest for a moment before saying, “Uh, thanks. For doing that.”

Claude presses a kiss to the top of Travis’ head. “Anytime,” he replies. He wonders what it would be like to fuck Travis like this, soft and willing and sweet. 

Travis hums softly and then adds, “I’m sorry that I’m still so messed up about it. I shouldn’t be by now.”

Heartbreak is a terrible thing, and Claude remembers what it was like to break up with the first person he really loved. It hurts, gives way to a sense of worthlessness, and Claude hates that there’s anyone in the world that can make Travis feel that way. 

“Take your time,” Claude says, smoothing a hand through Travis’ hair before resting it at the nape of his neck and squeezing. “I’ll be here.”

Travis sighs, sounding loose and happy for the first time in weeks, and Claude lets himself drift off to the sound of Travis’ breath in the quiet room.

**Author's Note:**

> you can reach me on my  tumblr or my [ twitter](http://twitter.com/lilcrickee).


End file.
